


Burden of Beasts

by Anduriel



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anal destruction, Deepthroating, Forced, Gang Rape, Gangbang, M/M, Monster - Freeform, Original Character(s), Other, PWP, Pre-Canon, Rough Sex, Scourge beast, Stomach Bulge, Threesome, Violence, but it's mostly porn, sort of, there is a tiny plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8342020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anduriel/pseuds/Anduriel
Summary: The smutty adventures of Tristan, a street rat of Yharnam. Takes place before the plotline of the game, before the beast scourge has completely decimated humanity, and when Yharnam is still somewhat livable.





	1. First Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how far I'll go on this one or how coherent a story it will. But what it will be is fun. Enjoy! 
> 
> P.S. If there is lore stuff about Bloodborne that I get wrong, feel free to let me know and I'll fix it if possible. I'm not the most versed in Bloodborne lore, so there might be mistakes or inconsistencies. Thanks!

_This was nice, Tristan. Can we do it again sometime?_

 

A tall, bony young man strolled down the back streets of Central Yharnam. His long, pale hair floated around his face in wisps, partially obscuring silver eyes. He wore little, even though there was a chill in the air, just a thin shirt and trousers, showing off his gaunt frame.

The streets he walked down were some of the scummiest in the city. Dangerous to most, but Tristan knew what he was doing. He knew what he would find there. A lifetime as a street rat could teach a person many things, including where to get a good lay if you’re not too squeamish. Which Tristan was not in the least.

In fact, he was the opposite of squeamish. The dirtier, hairier, beastlier the better.

He glanced up at the full moon. It had been full for four days now. A long hunt, this one, but he didn’t mind. Thin lips pulled into a grin and Tristan breathed in the smells of oil, smoke, trash, and rot. Home.

“Oy!”

A rough voice pulled him from his short reverie, and Tristan glanced back down the cracked cobblestone street. A huntsman stood not far away, leaning against the mouth of a side alley.

Tristan’s grin turned snotty as he sauntered toward the bestial man, eyeing the way his hair tufted up wildly, his face wrinkled and slightly disfigured in the beginnings of a wolfish expression--the sickness was getting to this one. It was getting to most of the huntsmen nowadays.

The huntsman sucked on his teeth as Tristan approached, eyeing the young man with recognition. A grin spread his lips, showing those yellow fangs. “Back for more, boy?”

Tristan stopped a couple paces away, cocking a brow. He didn’t recognize the man. Not that he didn’t believe him. There had been so many, and when the beast blood started to kick in they were even harder to distinguish. “Psh. Like I’d bend over for the likes a’ you again,” he drawled, bratty.

Just as he’d expected, the huntsman growled and surged forward, grabbing the back of Tristan’s hair and yanking him down. “That so, eh boy?” he hissed. He held tight to the white hair as he dragged Tristan back into the alley, muttering the whole way. “Yer a little whore. A little whore who likes it rough.”

Tristan stumbled after him, bent over, pulling half-heartedly at the hand in his hair. “Fuck off,” he grunted back, keeping up the charade. He knew what he was. What he wanted. He didn’t care.

The huntsman threw him forward--right into the arms of another scourge-riddled huntsman. This one was thicker, and furrier, the wolfish aspects coming out a bit more. He grabbed Tristan by the arms, his grip already bruising as he grinned down at the young man. “Caught a nice smooth one, have ye, Rank?”

The first huntsman, Rank, chuckled as Tristan struggled weakly. In no time, the two huntsman quickly pushed Tristan over a nearby crate, the second one sitting at the back of it so Tristan’s face bent right into his lap.

“He was practically begging for it, Gareth,” Rank growled, grinding himself against Tristan’s bony rear as he grabbed at his waistband.

“Was not!” Tristan yelped.

“He looks like the type. Prettier ‘an most whores though,” Gareth added with a grin himself. He unfastened his trousers to pull out a thick, curved cock, already hard. Tristan stared at it, not able to do much more with his face right there in front of the thing. Wiry hair covered the member about halfway up the veiny, sweaty shaft. Tristan shivered with anticipation.

Silver eyes glared up at Gareth with bared clenched teeth. “No way,” Tristan hissed, even as Rank made quick work of the human’s trousers and then positioned his own girth at his  entrance.

Both huntsmen chuckled, Rank carelessly pulling at Tristan’s ass cheeks while Gareth’s big hand gripped the young man’s hair. His fist was tight enough to pull a few strands out as he growled, “Open.”

Tristan grunted at the pain, but it was no fun if they didn’t have to work for it a bit. He kept his teeth tight, defiantly glaring up at him as Gareth rubbed the leaking cock head over his lips.

“Oh ho, got some spunk to ya, hm?” Rank jeered, pulling Tristan’s cheeks wide as he rumbled, “We’ll see about that.” The huntsman lined himself up and then shoved his hips forward without preamble, the thick head of his cock popping in past that squeezing ring of muscle.

Tristan’s eyes opened wide, pain shooting through him at the dry, abrupt penetration, his mouth about to open with a cry of pain before it was stuffed full with Gareth’s cock

“That’s right, boy.” The huntsman gripped both sides of Tristan’s hair, roughly shoving his head down onto his drooling cock.

Both huntsmen sighed with pleasure as Tristan’s body twitched and clenched at both ends, his own cock rigid where it hung between his legs. His bony hands slapped against Gareth’s furry stomach as the thing in his mouth delivered a generous drop of precum on his tongue.

With practiced ease, both huntsmen pushed hard, the cock in his ass sinking in, catching sensitive flesh as it parted his insides. The one in his mouth worked to the back of his throat, and then with one brutal thrust pushed through that hidden boundary and sank completely sheathed inside Tristan’s gullet.

When both cocks were firmly rooted inside, Tristan’s fight evaporated. His throat gurgled around the thick invader, fur rubbing against his tongue and nose as his eyes lifted to Gareth, gazing up at him with clouded lust. His gag reflex was a thing of the past, his throat swallowing helplessly around the member.

The big huntsman grinned back down at him, affectionately petting his hair as he groaned, “Tha’s a good whore. Nnnm~” He rocked his hips to give Tristan’s tight throat a good thrust.

Rank was already lost in the sensation of the young man’s ass gripping around him. He moaned as he dragged his cock almost all the way back out, and then mercilessly shoved back in. Tristan grunted, pain and pleasure knifing through his body, his years of practice the only thing keeping his flesh from tearing.

Rank panted softly, glancing down to run a claw down the knots of Tristan’s spine before he tilted his head back and began a brutal, pounding rhythm. In tandem, Gareth gripped Tristan’s hair and used his neck like a cocksleeve, pulling him up and down his glistening cock, burying every last inch with each thrust.

Tristan grunted and slurped, the edge of the crate digging into his exposed hips with each of Rank’s bone-creaking thrusts.

But just when both huntsman were finding their rhythm, settling in for a nice, long fuck, Rank felt something brush against his leg. Lost in the warm body under him, he grunted without looking, “Oy, get yer own.”

Rank barely got the words out before he was bodily swiped to the side, his cock yanking from Tristan’s ass as he stumbled away. He looked back toward the depths of the alley, anger bubbling up as he started to complain, “What the fu--” The words died on his tongue as he took in what exactly had shoved him. The huntsman’s eyes widened to the size of the moon and he stumbled back farther, breath wheezing from his lungs, “G-Gareth…”

The bigger huntsman’s eyes cracked open, brow furrowing in confusion, until he too saw what his buddy had. Gareth immediately shoved Tristan off his cock and leapt to the side of the crate, falling off the edge and stumbling away.

Tristan had cringed when the cock pulled out of his ass, and then coughed when the same happened to his throat. He gave the two scared huntsman an annoyed look, lifting himself off the crate a bit. “Eh? Wassa matter?” he slurred.

The answer came when something huge crashed down onto Tristan’s back, flattening him onto the crate and knocking the breath out of him. It was then that the smell hit: wet dog and rotting flesh. What felt like a set of knives pressed into his skin as a gigantic paw thumped down onto the crate next to him.

Tristan stared at the paw, bigger than his head, the claws the length of his forearms. Black, wiry fur covered the creature’s muscled limb. Tristan followed it back, and caught sight of a sinewy, lupine body and splayed, powerful back legs.

His eyes snapped forward again as the beast sniffed and growled lowly, a wet, bubbling sound.

“Ohmygod…” Tristan wheezed. It was a scourge beast. It was a fucking scourge beast. He was dead. This was how he died. With his pants around his fucking ankles.

Fur tickled the human’s back as the beast continued to sniff, its sharp snout and wicked, glistening teeth touching at Tristan’s head, slicking his hair with drool.

It wasn’t until Tristan felt something hard and hot bump between his legs that the beast’s true intentions became clear. His eyes widened and his blood ran cold, knowing immediately what that was. He couldn’t see it, but he knew.

The monster rubbed its seeping, knotted cock over Tristan’s cheeks and lower back, as black as its jet fur.

Tristan tried not to whimper as panic fluttered through him. Did this thing really expect to mate with him?! It wouldn’t fit! It would kill him, he was sure.

The scourge beast’s pointed tip caught on Tristan’s hole, the stretching from Rank not nearly enough to prepare him for the member this monster carried. It held itself there, going still, waiting…

Tristan licked his lips, his breath coming out in short, shallow pants. It was going to do it. What was it waiting for? He could try to fight it, he supposed, but that would definitely bring his demise. He would have no chance, even if he did have his weapons on him. Scourge beasts were rare, and Tristan had always, _always_ , run from them when he’d encountered one.

Was it waiting for him to submit? Tristan shivered, holding back a whimper. Fighting would definitely equal death… and submitting would probably equal death…

Tristan took a slow, steadying breath. He would take those odds. He wasn’t a hunter. He didn’t have some stalwart, suicidal sense of honor. He would take his chances, submit to what would probably be the last fuck of his life, and maybe, just maybe, he’d make it out alive.

The human slowly spread his skinny legs more, fear playing a staccato drumbeat in his chest. But deep down, Tristan couldn’t deny the small, depraved feeling of excitement.

The scourge beast gave a louder growl as its prey submitted, and wasted no time. It snarled, throwing its head back and bucking its hips in one bestial, brutal thrust, sinking its gigantic cock in to the knot in one go.

All the breath was instantly knocked out of him, and Tristan’s mouth opened wide, only a heaving grunt working out of his throat as his mind reeled. It was in. By the church, it was so far inside of him.

The beast gave a pleased snarl before it pulled out and rapidly shoved back in, its knot smacking against Tristan’s skin. The human managed to make sound then, a strangled, broken shriek escaping him, echoing down the alleyway.

The scourge beast’s maw opened in pleasure as it started to slam itself into Tristan, each thrust the full length of its shaft, piercing into Tristan over and over, his hole twitching and shivering pathetically. Tristan screamed and heaved as each thrust felt like a punch to his stomach, tears spilling over his cheeks. The small, fucked up part of his mind though marveled at how he hadn’t torn yet. The beast’s cock was slick and sticky with some sort of natural lubricant. While disgusting in any other circumstance, Tristan’s scrambled mind was nothing but grateful.

Numb, shaking fingers scrabbled over the crate, finding the edge and hanging on. Each heavy thrust dug the sharp edge of the wood into his hips, the skin breaking, blood gathering in the woodgrain. Static filled Tristan’s mind as the beast fucked him, using its entire weight to drive into him with wet, lewd smacks. His body gradually gave in, hanging limply over the crate.

The beast seemed to notice, giving another bubbling snarl as it moved its paw off his back and began to piston into Tristan with renewed force. It’s speed doubled, punching into Tristan’s guts, stretching his stomach, a slight bulge visible with each punishing insertion. The skin of his stomach was soon red and raw.

Tristan gazed out into nothing as he panted and whimpered, little shrieks pushing from his mouth every so often. Wetness dripped onto his face and arms, warm and sticky, the odor pungent. The young man blinked slowly, and then with heated, unfocused eyes, he turned enough to see where the wetness was coming from.

It turned out to be wolfish drool, the beast’s open maw dribbling thick strings of saliva. Tristan panted, mouth open as he gazed up at his monstrous lover, a whine working out.

The beast gave an angry snarl, it’s hips never slowing as it stuck out its long, dextrous tongue and dove it into Tristan’s open mouth.

Tristan could hardly register what was happening, his silver eyes gazing up into the fanged mouth just above his face. He gurgled helplessly around the invading tongue as it slithered into his mouth and then down his esophagus, warm and sticky and foul tasting. Drool gathered over his lips and then spilled down his face, covering his chin and dripping down his neck.

With its tongue down its prey’s throat, the beast gave a grunt and slammed its hips down. It pushed hard, spreading the already over-spread hole even more.

Tristan’s eyes widened, not realizing there was more the beast could even fit in. His coughs and gurgles grew more panicked as the beast gave another heavy thrust, working another couple centimeters of the knot in.

Finally, the beast snarled loudly, claws gouging into the crate as it forced its way in, the knot popping inside Tristan.

It’s tongue muffled the long, broken scream that left Tristan’s lungs as it felt like something the size of a watermelon forced into him. His mind went blank, eyes rolling back as pain nearly overtook him. No lubricant could help him now as blood snaked down his thighs from his torn hole.

Even as his body was decimated, Tristan’s mouth sucked hard on the tongue. The drool suddenly didn’t taste so bad. It even tasted sweet.

The beast roared in his face as it lifted its hips. The knot stayed firmly inside, lifting Tristan’s pelvis up off the crate and then slamming him back down as it thrust down again. The tongue pulled from his mouth as the scourge beast snarled, pulling up and then thrusting down again.

Tristan heard bones snap in his body as it slammed him down again, but the pain didn’t come. Hard, excruciating pleasure filled him as he coughed weakly, his head falling onto the wood when the tongue released him.

He wheezed when the beast slammed him down yet again, arms slowly reaching down to shakily feel at his abdomen. He whimpered when he felt an obvious bulge there, the beast’s immense cock distorting his stomach, stretching his insides to make him its personal pleasure toy.

After a few more unsuccessful attempts, the scourge beast planted a paw firmly on Tristan’s back again, and then pulled, holding him down onto the crate. It’s claws broke the young man’s skin along his shoulders, Tristan’s eyes rolling back and his mouth opening wide, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

With a sticky _sschluuck!_ the knot finally came free. The scourge beast roared its pleasure and celebrated by stuffing that thick, bulbous knot right back into the gaping, bloody hole. Tristan moaned pitifully, his body slack against the crate, plastered to the wood. The pain was just fuzzy background noise now to the storm of pleasure pounding through his body.

The scourge beast rumbled happily as it started fucking its toy all over again, splayed back legs thrusting harder and faster than a human could ever hope to achieve. Its huge body pounded into Tristan, making the crate groan under him. Tristan’s reactions got weaker and weaker, his body and mind completely giving in, eyes staring out unfocused as his body jerked and trembled.

After fucking him into oblivion for a good while, the beast bared its teeth and ratcheted up its rhythm, fucking Tristan at a blinding speed. It panted and grunted, its cock pulsing, until--

it slammed down in one final, brutal thrust, the wood finally cracking and splintering under Tristan’s fractured hips. The pale boy’s eyes widened again as the monster cock planted itself in his ass and then somehow seemed to swell even bigger, locking inside of him. When it had firmly sealed him, the beast sighed, and then let forth a veritable geyser of cum.

“HHNN..!” Tristan retched as he felt his stomach expand, his own cock twitching out a pitiful orgasm that was lost in the tide of the beast’s. Ropes of hot cum pumped into him, locked inside by the giant knot. Tristan felt each spurt punch into him, making him feel dizzy, his eyes crossing as he cringed and groaned and gagged.

Minutes passed as the beast filled him, each spurt just as strong and thick as the last. By the time it did seem to let up, Tristan’s stomach was heavy and round, looking very much like he was expecting to give birth soon.

The beast gave a low growl of satisfaction, lifting its front half up and moving off the crate. As it moved, so did Tristan, dragged off the crate by the still buried cock inside of him. He gave a pained moan as he hung limply from his ass, the torn flesh of his hole clinging to the beast’s member while his arms and legs dragged on the dirty ground. Agonizingly slow, he started to slip off, the base of the knot reappearing centimeter by centimeter. When he reached the widest part of it, his weight pulled him the rest of the way off in a rush.

The broken human fell in heap under the beast, staying where he landed. Unstoppered, his ass twitched once before a long, thick jet of white liquid poured out, quickly trailing off and dribbling down his ass and over his legs.

The scourge beast, much calmer now, lowered its huge snout and sniffed at the creature under him. It found Tristan’s stomach and then sniffed at his crotch, giving it a lick before raising its head and padding away back into the alley.

Tristan stayed where he’d landed for a long while. He was in bad shape. He knew that. But he didn’t want to move. Didn’t know if he could move. Blackness played at the edges of his vision, his mind still a mess. He’d just been fucked by a scourge beast. Even though it had just happened, he almost couldn’t believe it.

If he didn’t move soon though, he wouldn’t have to believe it. Because he’d be dead.

Tristan groaned and coughed, his stomach still swollen and sore, but all he had to do was get to his stash. It wasn’t far. Just a couple blocks. A hidden little supply of clothes, his weapons, and most importantly, sweet sweet blood vials.

Slowly, the human started to move. He cringed when he felt more monster cum flow from his ass at just the small movement. The sensation was nothing though compared to the pain that spiked through his hips when he tried to move to his knees. He collapsed back down, hissing. Fucking broken. His hips were broken.

Tristan grit his teeth and started to painfully drag himself, his vision swimming, unconsciousness threatening with every movement.

As he dragged his broken body down the thankfully empty street, he couldn’t help but lick his lips. The drool left from the beast still tasted sweet. He realized that no one had ever been able to make him forget so thoroughly. And no one would ever be able to, not like that beast.

It had ruined him. The fucking thing had ruined him.

He finally reached his stash, his arm craning through a rusty fence grate and pulling out a wrapped bundle. Shaking hands found a blood vial, any other items in the bag spilling to the ground. Tristan shoved the syringe into his thigh, pressing down on the plunger and watching the blood push into him.

Instantly, he felt his body repairing itself, the syringe falling from numb fingers. He laid his head down, groaning as he felt his hips crackle back into place. The young man relaxed into the hard cobblestone, the area safe enough for now. His eyes fluttered shut, the taste of scourge beast drool still on his lips, and its cum still churning deep in his body.

 

_Would you, like to come over? Stop by my house in a few days, I’m almost always there… I’m excited to see you again, Tristan…_

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tristan has a real date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry my fellow non-con kinksters, this one is super consensual. Not to fear though, the monster smut will be back next chapter. For now, enjoy the rough m/m lovelies.

Tristan had his trousers rolled up to his knobby knees as he waded into the water fountain. It was one of the few fountains that still worked, and as such you had to go at a very certain time—right after they turned it on in the morning, but before the richies came out and shooed your homeless ass away.

He scrubbed at his pale feet with chewed fingernails. He didn’t have any soap, but figured the bitterly cold water had to do something. Something besides freezing his toes off, that is.

“Freeze the funk away…” he joked quietly to himself.

He bathed often, for a street rat. Once a week, at least. Always the day after he fucked. Tristan often wondered if he were a rich bastard in a past life, since he couldn’t stand to just sit in his own filth. Or others’ filth, as it were. Though, usually he would only quickly rinse off the essential parts of his body, not willing to turn blue in the icy water.  

However, today was different. Today he had a date to prepare for.

And not just any date. A nice date. A _real_ date. What normal people had, even if normalcy had long since crumbled with the rise of the beast scourge.

_Stop by my house in a few days… I’m excited to see you again, Tristan…_

Tristan glanced around, and seeing no one in the pale, misty morning, he quickly shucked his clothes off.

He cleaned his clothes first, his naked, bony butt sitting on the edge of the marble fountain so he could drape each article over his lap, scrubbing and rubbing carefully at the fabric. When everything was as washed as it could get, he laid them over the edge of the fountain to dry.

Clothes washed, it was time for the rest of his body. Tristan looked over his skin as he sank to his knees, the chilly water coming up to his upper thighs, goosebumps raising over his arms and shoulders. He scratched at an old scar for a moment on his thigh, then quickly began scrubbing at himself, ignoring his shivers.

He got the important bits, his white skin looking ghostly in the cold water. When he’d cleaned most of his body, he reached his fingers under the water and then up between his ass cheeks. While he wasn’t exactly sure what type of person his date was, he wanted to be sure that part of him was clean.

Not only that, but he needed to investigate a bit.

It had been a few days since the scourge beast, and he still felt… gooey. As if the beast had left a permanent layer of slick cum along his insides. A couple long fingers slipped inside without a problem, and Tristan held back a groan as he felt the cold water seep deeper.

It wasn’t as if he were particularly tight anyway, not with how much and how hard he fucked, but this was different. The beast… it had changed him. It had left something permanent. Or at least, semi-permanent.

Granted, he’d never had _that_ much up there, but still. It should have come out or absorbed within a day of the healing blood got into his system.

The young man sighed heavily, pulling his fingers out when he felt he’d gotten as deep a clean he could, and then unceremoniously dunked his head under the water. His white hair floated about his face as he held his breath, something he was also very good at by now.

Had he finally gotten himself into more trouble than he could handle? Tristan knew that the beast scourge had addictive qualities, and he also knew he had an addictive personality. It was part of why he tried his very hardest not to get into any fights with the monsters that plagued Yharnam during hunt nights. That strict ‘run away’ policy was probably the only thing that had kept him clean on that front, avoiding the more furry fate that often befell the huntsman.

But he couldn’t help wondering what a direct injection of undiluted scourge beast would do to a human.

Tristan lifted his head from the water, letting the freezing fountain water drain over his face. He pushed the thoughts away. Not today. Today, he had a date…

 

 

Ringing the doorbell of the fancy, upper scale house was an experience in itself. It was a golden-threaded pull rope, and rang a tolling bell deep inside of the house. Tristan rocked from his toes to his heels as he waited, his hair drifting in front of his face, his long, tall scarf pulled up high to hide most of his face.

“Tristan?” a soft voice called from the other side of the door.

His mouth twitched in half a grin and Tristan teased back, “No, it is a great beasty here to eat your soul.”

The carved door creaked open, and Tristan’s heart thudded harder when he saw the man on the other side.

A handsome, if bookish, face glowed with a smile. Fawn-colored hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail at the nape of his neck. His clothes were simple but of fine make, the fabric thick and new. Ink stained the fingers holding the door.

“You came,” Sinclair murmured, the subdued excitement clear in his tone.

Tristan grinned, “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to try your rich-person tea.”

Sinclair rolled his eyes, but beckoned Tristan in with a tilt of his head. The tall young man ducked inside, glancing back as Sinclair closed the door with a heavy thunk and the turn of a few locks. He turned and they met eyes again, Tristan staring into Sinclair’s auburn orbs.

The bookish man cleared his throat bashfully. “May I take your coat?” he asked politely.

Tristan blinked, “What do you need it for?”

A smile twitched at Sinclair’s lips. “No, to hang up.”

“Oh.” Tristan flushed as he let his coat slip from his thin arms, unwrapping his scarf as well. He handed the articles to Sinclair, smiling. “Sorry. Not very cultured.”

Sinclair gazed at him for a moment, and Tristan grinned as the other man fumbled with the clothes. “It’s quite alright,” he breathed back, smiling as he hung up the coat and scarf. “Follow me,” he continued, “We can go to my study.”

Tristan nodded and followed Sinclair deeper into the house. They moved past the foyer and through a sitting room, each area finer than the last. Tristan followed close behind Sinclair, peering around with near childlike wonder. This place was so fancy! His boots literally sank into the plush carpet. He was certain he’d never felt anything so soft under his feet.

But even as he marveled at the carved bannisters and marble fixtures, Tristan fought off the acute feeling of worthlessness that tried to undermine his good mood. He didn’t belong in a place like this, and he knew it, but that didn’t matter. Sinclair had invited him. He wouldn’t have if he hadn’t wanted to.

Sinclair led him up a flight of stairs, at the bottom of which rested a hulking, clearly well-used sawcleaver. Tristan stared at it as they passed. He knew Sinclair could handle himself out on a hunt night. That’s how he’d had first laid eyes upon his now date—battling off a couple wolf-men. Sinclair, though he looked scrawny and defenseless, could handle an axe with clean precision.

But this weapon laying on the stairs had a different air. The teeth were bloodstained, and the blade had been sharpened many times. It was sinister. Heavy in both weight and presence. And a weapon that could only be from the hunter’s workshop.

“Who’s is that?” Tristan asked as they mounted the carpeted stairs.

“It was my sister’s.”

The sentence came with a finality that Tristan didn’t question, despite his curiosity.  

They eventually made their way to the study. Only moonlight and the glowing embers of a dying fireplace lit cozy space. Tristan smiled, taking in the floor to ceiling bookshelves along every wall. Two overstuffed armchairs rested in a corner next to a small table. A large desk stood before a picture window, giving the inhabitants a perfect view of the rising half moon.

“It’s really beautiful in here,” Tristan murmured. He moved further into the room, taking a closer look at a shelf that consisted of only untitled, leather bound books.

Sinclair scratched at the back of his neck. “Thank you. This is where I do most of my work.”

“Ah yes,” Tristan replied, “Your studying of the scourge, hm? Are these yours then?” Tristan pointed to the unlabeled shelf and glanced at Sinclair, who nodded, blushing softly.

“Yes, I wrote those. They’re just… notes and things. Nothing too incredible.” He walked toward the small side table where a slender, white teapot and cups waited.

Tristan joined the man again, watching Sinclair carefully pour the tea. “I think it’s pretty incredible.”

Sinclair grinned, looking back at him brightly. “Do you? I could show you, if you…ah, after tea, of course. That’s why you came, isn’t it?” He picked up a dainty teacup and handed it to Tristan.

Tristan’s smile grew. Sinclair was so incredibly cute. Did the man even know? He reached for the teacup, sliding his fingers over Sinclair’s as he took it, not breaking eye contact. “Partially,” he replied.

Sinclair blinked, blushing again and clearing his throat. He grabbed his own cup and nodded once, “To chance meetings?”

Tristan hummed a laugh, “Yes, to chance.”

They raised their cups and then took a sip. Sinclair watched Tristan closely, waiting for his reaction.

Tristan, for his part, almost completely forgot where he was when the piping hot tea filled his mouth. It was floral, but not overpowering. Dark and rich. A certain sweetness that he’d never experienced. Tristan closed his eyes, swallowing slowly, getting the full effect. A bitter, but not unpleasant, aftertaste lingered on his tongue, the flavor changing even as the tea warmed him through his chest.

“Sinclair,” he breathed.

“Y-yes?”

“This may be the best thing I’ve ever drank.” Tristan opened his eyes and grinned as he saw a huge smile break over the other man’s face.

“Is it!? Oh, I’m so glad you like it!” Sinclair exclaimed, moving closer to Tristan as he sipped his as well.

They enjoyed their tea for a moment, growing closer, almost touching, just as they had been the other night. The old balcony of that decrepit house, clear of monsters, just the two of them. The wind. The moonlight. Hips brushing, eyes searching…

Tristan blinked, taking a large gulp of his tea and turning back to the shelf of Sinclair’s books. “So what do you study?” he asked, following next to him as the young man moved toward the shelf.

“Oh, all sorts of things. Things that are interesting or different. Trying to track the various beasts.” Sinclair shrugged.

“Interesting or different, eh?” Tristan repeated, taking another gulp of the delicious tea. His was almost gone already. “You got a chapter about me then?” he teased.

Sinclair chuckled. “Well, you are quite different. There’s not a big homeless population here in Yharnam, is there?”

“Nah, any others get eaten pretty quick.” Tristan padded over to the large desk, peering at a stack of papers with scribbled drawings and scrawling notes.

Sinclair watched him move, head tilting a bit. “And how have you avoided that fate?”

A grin pulled up the corner of Tristan’s mouth. “Lucky, I guess. Like you said, I’m different.”

Tristan turned to look back at Sinclair, and almost jumped when he found the man mere inches from him. There was a playful glint in his eye as he looked over Tristan’s thin face. “Just luck then?” he murmured lightly as he set his cup down on the desk. “No supernatural powers or the like?”

Tristan hummed a laugh, “Not that I know of.” He set his cup down as well, feeling the shift in mood. Feeling what he knew they’d both felt on the balcony that night.

They moved closer, hips finally brushing as Sinclair rested his fingers lightly on Tristan’s waist. “Would you… like more tea?” he breathed.

Tristan bit his bottom lip, whispering back, “Maybe later,” before he took the plunge.

Their lips pressed together, the touch magnetic as soon as they connected. It took no more than a heartbeat for them to fit together, mouths pressing tighter, getting as much coverage as they could. Tristan’s tongue flickered out, and Sinclair’s moved instantly to meet it and then push in, tasting each other.

Tristan groaned softly, his arms twining around the other man, their chests pressed flat together. Sinclair tasted _good._ Oh, by the church, he tasted so good. Tristan ran his tongue over the man’s teeth, hands moving up to rake through his smooth hair, mussing the neat ponytail.

Tristan’s lower back hit the edge of the desk when Sinclair pushed him roughly against it, his strength surprising. Tristan’s heart fluttered and he bucked his hips into Sinclair’s, their lips tearing apart. Sinclair quickly found Tristan’s neck, kissing and grazing his teeth over his skin. “I want you,” he breathed heavily.

“Then take me,” Tristan replied, his pants already tight with anticipation.

Sinclair moaned and shoved Tristan around, grabbing the back of his shirt and bending him over the desk. They both panted while Sinclair fumbled with the tie of Tristan’s trousers before impatiently unbuckling his own belt.

Warm skin pressed against his bare backside and Tristan moaned, arching his back cutely.

The deep sting of penetration that Tristan expected didn’t come though. Instead, Sinclair reached forward and into a drawer on the other side of the desk, pulling out a small glass bottle of clear liquid.

Tristan watched as he brought it out and then tried to crane his neck around to see what Sinclair was doing. “Wassat?”

“Lubrication,” Sinclair answered easily, his face flushed as he hurriedly uncorked the bottle and poured an excessive amount of the stuff over his member. He rubbed it in before recorking the bottle and placing it aside.

“Oh…” Tristan glanced forward again, brow furrowing. Did he mean, like, saliva? Was that just a bottle of spit? Seemed a little gross, but, whatever he wanted, Tristan supposed.

The feeling of warm skin returned, and something hard and slippery pressed against his entrance. Tristan moaned and arched his back again, relaxing into the smooth wood of the desk.

There was pressure, but before it even started to hurt, Sinclair’s hefty member slipped right in with hardly any resistance.

“Oh!” Both young men exclaimed, both in varying surprised tones.

Tristan shivered and moaned. There was no way that was saliva. That was… great ones, it was so slick and warm and pleasant, whatever it was. But Sinclair’s surprise had him craning his neck back again. “Wh-what?”

Sinclair was breathing heavily, chewing on his bottom lip as his hands clenched onto Tristan’s hips. “You’re so… nnn… that was, so, ah… so easy.”

Tristan’s cheeks flared. “You callin’ me loose!?”

Sinclair gave him a flat look before giving him a nice, hard thrust.

Tristan’s head thunked down on the desk as an unabashedly feminine moan worked from his throat. His eyes rolled at the warm, sticky feeling, soaking up the sensations as Sinclair started to slowly thrust. The lube smoothed everything out, letting Tristan focus on the pure pleasure of being stretched, of the thick head pushing against his prostate with every long thrust.

Sinclair’s warm hands smoothed up his waist, under his shirt, pushing it up and then over Tristan’s head. His hands then roamed over Tristan’s bare back, his grip lighter than Tristan was used to, but not at all shy. All the while, his hips smacked wetly against his ass, the lube dripping down Tristan’s inner thighs.

Tristan soon wanted more. He panted softly and spread his legs farther, booted toes pointing out to the sides. A languid grin spread over his face as he clenched down on the invading cock, tightening around Sinclair.

The other man groaned and shoved his hips forward, digging himself into Tristan’s clenching confines. Sinclair leaned over top of him, hands sliding up to feel over Tristan’s long arms, earning a purr of satisfaction from him.

“You’re very good at this,” Sinclair gasped.

Tristan hummed, “The least I can do for such delicious tea.”

Sinclair chuckled, “Is good tea all it takes to get you in bed?”

“It can be.”

Sinclair ground his hips down, pressing Tristan harder into the desk, getting another moan out of him. “Is this what you like, then?” the brunette asked heatedly.

“Mmn, I like it rough.”

“Is this rough enough?”

Tristan’s silvery eyes slid back to catch Sinclair’s gaze, “It’s nice,” he offered, grinning again.

Sinclair’s gaze soured. “You’re lying.”

Tristan’s grin widened. “It’s not even close.”

Sinclair glared, and then lifted up off of Tristan, pulling from his ass with a grunt. “Strip. All the way,” he ordered lightly, his tone almost chipper.

Tristan raised a brow at him, unimpressed, but straightened and kicked off his trousers and boots anyway.

“Good,” Sinclair chirped, moving forward and grabbing him by the hair, shoving Tristan down onto the floor, his strength once again surprising. “Do you find your mouth as talented as your ass?” the brunette asked.

Excited silver eyes lifted up to Sinclair. “Why don’t you find out for yourself.”

Sinclair gave a shivering sigh and moved closer, his soaked cock bobbing before Tristan’s lips, dripping with that thick, viscous lube. Tristan kept his eyes up, looking at Sinclair through his lashes as he opened his mouth obediently, pink tongue sticking out and caressing the warm, lubed head.

Sinclair groaned, hands constricting in Tristan’s hair as he pushed his cock into the waiting mouth. He quickly reached the entrance to his throat and gazed down at the knelt young man. “Think you can take it all?” he breathed.

Tristan’s brow twitched up sarcastically before he pushed himself down, the lube making it even easier for him to impale himself on Sinclair’s manhood. His eyes never dropped as he pushed himself all the way down, lips burying in the man’s soft pubic hair.

“ _Uuhnn_ —oh, by the great ones, Tristan,” Sinclair gasped, causing Tristan to grin around the thick member down his throat. The taste didn’t bother him. He’d tasted much worse, and the lubrication was actually a little sweet, to his pleasant surprise.

As encouragement, Tristan wrapped his lips tightly around Sinclair and then forced his throat to swallow around him, massaging the length, his tongue rubbing at the underside.

Sinclair gave another moan, hands clenching back in the white hair before he thrust his hips roughly, hips smacking against Tristan’s lips.

“ _Mmnng_ …” Tristan moaned around the cock, eyes fluttering as he stared up at Sinclair, begging for more with his heated gaze.

Sinclair grinned back down at him.  “You really are a slut, aren’t you?”

Tristan managed to nod, his throat shuddering around Sinclair’s cock, lube dripping down his chin and neck.

Sinclair thrust his hips again, pulling the head back into Tristan’s mouth before shoving back in. “Then it’s only right I use you as such,” he breathed.

Tristan gazed lovingly up at him as Sinclair held the white head stationary and began to roughly fuck his throat. His length slid in and out of Tristan’s sloppy orifice, selfishly taking his pleasure from Tristan’s throat. Smooth hips smacked against Tristan’s lips with every thrust, balls thumping against his chin. Tristan worked the member expertly, cheeks hollowing as Sinclair dragged out and swallowing around him when he pushed back in.

It didn’t take long for Sinclair to start thrusting harder and faster, his fists dragging at Tristan’s hair to move his head back and forth along his cock, forcing even deeper into his throat.

Tristan’s eyes slowly unfocused, watering as his head went light from lack of oxygen. His own noises grew louder, his throat gulping and gurgling involuntarily. Drool dripped in thick strings from his chin, coating Sinclair’s balls and pooling in Tristan’s lap. All the while, Tristan’s own cock was rock hard, fully enjoying the throat massage.

After a few long minutes, Sinclair wrenched Tristan off his cock, panting and shivering with pleasure. He dragged Tristan back to his feet and shoved him down onto the desk again, this time with his back against the wood.

Tristan coughed lightly, moaning and following Sinclair’s direction. He raised his gangly legs up when Sinclair hoisted his ass up onto the desk and quickly positioned his throbbing length back at Tristan’s entrance.

Sinclair gripped the back of Tristan’s slim thigh with one hand, pressing his leg down and spreading him even wider. Tristan watched, panting, mouth wet, and moaned loudly when Sinclair roughly shoved back in.

“You’re just too good, Tristan,” Sinclair growled as his hips slammed brutally into Tristan’s ass over and over.

“Nn!—am I?—uhn!” Tristan grinned and clenched down on the invading cock, drawing a snarl out of Sinclair and his hips slammed down even harder.

The entire desk shook with each punishing thrust, a stack of papers cascading to the ground, but neither men even noticed. Sinclair was lost inside of Tristan, both hands pressing each leg down, practically folding him in half. Tristan had his arms wrapped loosely around his own legs, filling the room with his wanton moans. They still didn’t notice when a bottle of ink spilled over next, the black liquid pooling out toward the two lovers, touching a lock of Tristan’s hair and seeping in.

All too soon, Tristan could feel that Sinclair was reaching his limit. His thrusts were growing more desperate, cock pulsing harder. He bared his teeth, leaning over more as his hips pistoned into Tristan’s welcoming confines. “Tris—nn—Tristan, I-I want—”

“Do it,” Tristan interrupted, panting and groaning. “Whatever you want. Do it. Take it. Take me, Sinclair…”

Sinclair groaned, brows turning up as he raced toward his finish. Just as he was about to spill over the edge, he grabbed Tristan around the back of the neck, pulling out of his ass and yanking him back down to stuff his cock into the man’s mouth.

Tristan’s grunt of surprise was quickly muffled when seed globbed into his mouth. His eyes rolled as the thick, pungent cum filled his mouth, about to swallow it down until Sinclair snarled, “Don’t you dare swallow. I want to see it.”

Tristan moaned thickly, obediently holding the thick cum in his mouth as Sinclair deposited another couple shots there.

Wanting a taste of everything it seemed, the man yanked from Tristan’s mouth and feverishly pushed his still-coming cock back into the other man’s ass. Tristan moaned as he fell back, mouth opening to show Sinclair the sticky white puddle there.

Sinclair groaned at the sight as he delivered the last of his load deep into Tristan’s ass, grinding his hips into him.

Before he’d even fully stopped coming, Sinclair grasped Tristan’s pulsing erection, pumping it quickly as he grinned. His brown hair fell forward, nearly all of it pulled loose from its tie. “Show me. Show me Tris~ You can swallow it when you come,” he panted.

Tristan moaned and opened his mouth wide, white goo coating his tongue as his back arched up into the sudden attention to his member. Wide, silver eyes gazed submissively at Sinclair, brows turning up as he moaned and whined. Sinclair groaned and pushed the fingers of his other hand into Tristan’s messy mouth, swirling around little pool of white.

Tristan squeezed his eyes shut, hips bucking up into the hand that pumped him, racing toward his conclusion. His hands gripped the edge of the desk, moans peaking higher and higher until—

He gave a ragged, muffled moan, eyes rolling back as he spilled over, his cock pulsing and spraying his own chest with white pleasure.

Sinclair sighed in satisfaction as he watched Tristan make a mess of himself. He gradually slowed his stroking and then let go, pulling his fingers from Tristan’s mouth as well. “Swallow,” he breathed.

Tristan’s eyes fluttered back open, eyes glowing like the moonlight as he closed his mouth and swallowed thickly. His throat bobbed as he drank down the thick cum, unflinching.

Sinclair gave a soft groan at the sight before ducking down and locking their lips once again, kissing Tristan with slow passion.

They slowly parted, staying a breath apart, meeting each other’s gaze. Tristan grinned drunkenly, draping his arms around Sinclair’s neck. “Just as good as your tea,” he purred, teasing.

Sinclair snorted softly, running his fingers through Tristan’s hair. He blinked when he reached the ink-soaked end, picking up the lock of black dyed hair with surprise. “Oh dear, that will probably stain. Sorry about that.”  

Tristan shrugged, smiling. “I don’t mind. Be something to remind me of you.”

Sinclair blushed softly, giving Tristan another swift kiss before murmuring against his lips, “More tea?”

“I think I’ve earned it.”

Sinclair’s eyes sparkled, and Tristan’s heart thumped a little harder as the man chuckled. “I quite agree.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next full moon brings out a new side of Tristan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More beast porn awwwwww yeah.

When the next full moon rose, it hung over Yharnam like a bloated dead animal. It’s light fell over every crevice of the failing city, impregnating the residents with fear and bloodlust in equal measure.

Tristan’s feet dragged over the cobblestone, hardly noticing that he was moving. His eyes were unfocused, something else entirely drawing him into the darker corners of the city.

He’d been seeing Sinclair nearly every night, and they’d fucked every visit, but Tristan had yet to actually spend the entire night there. He always left the comfort and safety of Sinclair’s gorgeous house to go back to what he knew. Where he belonged. As if staying until sunrise would ruin what they had, the impossible normalcy.

Now, he wanted to go there. Even though he’d told Sinclair he’d be fine. That he’d been fine, every hunt, for years now. Tristan’s glassy eyes glanced down at the lock of hair in front of his face, still dyed black from the spilled ink. As something unknown and uncontrollable dragged him through Yharnam’s back alleys, Tristan wanted to be in his bookish lover’s arms.

Howls lifted through the city, whether from hunters or beasts, it was impossible to tell. Tristan shivered, feeling feverish and out of breath. He knew the feeling. Withdrawal. There were plenty of substances on the streets one could get addicted to, and Tristan had played with those fires before. But now, he was clean.

Or, he thought he’d been.

His sluggish mind chugged through the possibilities, drawing eventually to one, disturbing, conclusion.

Just as he realized that there was really only one possibility, he found himself down in a small, secluded area where a well had once been, but was now just a boarded up hole. Pacing there, only a stone’s throw away from Tristan, was the jerky, hulking form of a scourge beast.

Tristan froze as he stared at the beast, catching its heavy scent. In an instant, he knew it was the same one. It was the same beast that had raped him the previous hunt.

And he was addicted to it. The fucking thing had hooked him.

A breeze rushed down into the walled-off area and the scourge beast sniffed once. Its head snapped to Tristan, white eyes glowing as bright as the engorged moon above them.

Tristan’s body reacted immediately. He grew painfully hard within seconds, heat flushing through his body. What had him trembling though was the sudden feeling of warm wetness between his ass cheeks. That feeling of gooey-ness hadn’t left him, and now it grew exponentially, as if he’d just had a dozen loads dumped into his ass.

The beast turned toward him, its unnaturally splayed forelimbs stomping down like tree trunks, shaking the ground with each step.

Tristan whimpered softly, his mind growing numb as his body moved. He swiftly removed his shirt, dropping it to the ground. His trousers followed, boots kicking off his feet, until he was completely nude before the beast.

It approached slowly, burning white eyes boring into him. Tristan watched, his heart thudding faster and faster as he glanced lower and saw the beast’s own quickly growing erection.

It reached him, and with one huge paw shoved Tristan down onto his back. The human crumpled, gasping and submitting immediately, eagerness drowning out the terrified voice screaming in the back of his mind. He lifted and parted his legs, drawing his knees up toward his shoulders, presenting himself to the beast.

The scourge beast snarled happily, sniffing at Tristan’s face, giving the human a good look at the dagger-like teeth that poked from under its hackles. It then stepped forward, looming above Tristan, its gigantic member bobbing closer. Tristan stared down at it, wondering how it would feel this time. Would it hurt just as much? Would the pleasure come quicker? Would it actually just kill him this time?

The shiny black cock smacked down onto Tristan’s groin, smearing sticky precum over his stomach and his own dwarfed member. The human trembled, reaching down toward his ass and pushing in a couple fingers in a desperate attempt to stretch himself a bit before the inevitable destruction.

To his surprise, his fingers went in easier than they ever had before. His ass opened up wide, the flesh around his hole puffy and slimy. Bringing his hands back up, Tristan saw they were covered in clear, sticky fluid.

Had… had the beast actually changed how his body worked?

He didn’t have time to ponder his own physiology as the knotted cock dragged down and positioned itself.

The beast thrust, and Tristan grunted as it scraped a little too high, the pointed tip digging into his balls instead.

The beast repositioned again, and again missed the mark. It snorted and growled, shifting in annoyance and grinding its heavy length down into the soft little pillow of Tristan’s testicles. Tears sprung to his eyes as the beast crushed him, the soft, sensitive skin growing red and swollen. Even as pain spiked through him, a moan pushed from his lungs with every bruising grind against his sack.

Tristan shakily reached down and grasped the giant cock with both hands, his fingertips barely touching. The beast snarled, thrusting blindly as Tristan wrestled the slimy member to the right spot.

He barely got it lined up to his asshole before the beast gave another sharp thrust, and it popped right in.

Tristan shrieked, his head thumping back against the cobblestone as his asshole was abruptly stretched. The beast snarled and arched its back, neck curving in pleasure as it pushed down, sinking the obscene length into Tristan to the knot.

Tristan’s mouth opened wide as the thing shoved into him, his legs spreading wider to try and relieve some of the pressure of being so completely filled.

Still… it wasn’t as painful as he remembered. He didn’t feel any ripping, his hole seeming to suck the scourge beast’s cock right up. He slowly raised his head to look down at himself, his eyes widening when he saw the clear bulge in his lower abdomen.

The beast thrust, aiming down, crushing Tristan into the ground. He gave a choked moan, legs stretching out, his toes touching the cobblestone above his head. Silver eyes crossed as the beast snarled and spread its stance. With a snort, its hips began to piston up and down, punching into Tristan’s guts, reshaping him all over again.

Tristan choked and coughed, shaky hands reaching back up to slowly rest over his stomach. He felt every thrust bow out his skin, the pointed tip scraping out his insides. The thick knot smacked against his ass with every thrust, and Tristan found himself pushing up into the thrusts, waiting in anticipation for it to sink all the way in, to fill him as only this beast could.

The scourge beast seemed to agree, as it slammed its hips down and then pushed even harder, snarling loudly. Tristan’s mouth opened wide again as the knot stuck for only a few seconds, and then slipped in with a wet _pop!_

“AaaUUUH!” Tristan’s entire body trembled, his hands cradling and rubbing at the large bulge in his stomach. He panted heavily, eyes glassy, giving a long, broken moan as his cock twitched and spilled an orgasm over his chest and chin.

The beast groaned and growled, kneeling down over Tristan, its thick, furry chest pressing against the young man’s face and chest. Tristan cooed at the closeness, reaching his hands up and grasping onto the wiry fur.

“HNG—!” he grunted when the scourge beast yanked its knot out and then immediately plunged it back in, grinding into his ass for a few breaths before repeating the movement.

Tristan felt completely trapped, choking on the thick stench of the beast, pinned under its hulking torso, nothing more than a warm cock pillow for the monster.

The scourge beast growled contentedly as it brutally fucked its toy, the sound thrumming through its chest and sinking into Tristan as he whined and moaned pitifully. This was definitely different than the first time. It was easier. Better. Pleasure exploded through his body, his ass wet and sticky as it continued to produce its new, natural lubricant. The heady scent of sweat and wet dog filled his senses, inundating the sex-crazed human, making him unable to think about anything but the beast above him and the member pile-driving into his needy hole.

Tristan didn’t know how long it fucked him. It was easy enough to lose track of time when the full moon hung in the air for days at a time, let alone when his mind was scrambled by monster sex. Eventually though, the scourge beast’s thrusts sped up even more, its tongue lolling out as it pounded into Tristan.

Tristan’s moans ramped up, his stomach red and bruised from its internal pummeling. His cock was hard and throbbing again, ready to release at any moment.

A snarl ripped from the beast as it sank fully into Tristan, its knot swelling until even Tristan’s lubed, stretchy hole wouldn’t be able to get it back out, not that he wanted to. The beast groaned as it released a fountain of cum into the human, laying down more and rendering Tristan completely immobile.

Tristan’s eyes crossed and his own cock sprayed seed into the beast’s fur, monster cum pumping into him. He moaned like an animal, breath short as the beast’s weight pressed down on his chest. He could feel his guts expanding, each thick rope slamming painfully into his intestines, but all Tristan felt was pleasure. His fingers threaded through the thick black fur, grabbing desperately as he moaned and whimpered.

Just as it had before, the scourge beast filled Tristan until the frail human looked pregnant, and even when the torrent of cum tapered off, it kept its engorged member inside its warm, squishy pillow for a while longer. The beast growled contentedly as Tristan’s stomach gurgled and churned, sweat gathering over his brow and chest as the hot cum soaked into him.

Eventually, the beast gave a low snarl and slowly rolled to its side, the now deflated knot pulling out of Tristan with ease. Cum gushed from his gaping hole as soon as he was unstoppered, drawing another long moan from him as it poured out.

Tristan slowly turned his head as he took deep breaths, his lungs finally free. He blinked hazy eyes as he watched the scourge beast stretch out its long, muscular legs, its stomach exposed. Tristan had never seen a scourge beast relax like that. It made the creature look just a touch less monstrous.

His eyes moved back to the huge member hanging between its legs. The shiny black skin glistened with creamy white streaks, still half hard. Tristan stared, feeling the fever come back, stronger than before. He licked his lips, wondering what it might taste like…

He groaned as he pulled himself onto his hands and knees, shivering as more cum leaked from his ass, splattering down his thighs. The thin young man crawled toward the beast, getting right up close and personal to its member. He slowly reached out and wrapped his pale hands around the heavy cock, starting to squeeze and rub.

The scourge beast gave a deep groan, its head lifting, white eyes fixing on Tristan. Tristan’s gaze, however, stayed fascinated by the thing in front of him. His hands quickly grew sticky with seed, needing both to fully encircle the thick length. He felt over each vein and ridge, marveling at the vicious shape of it.

Before he even realized what he was doing, his mouth had found the pointed tip. Tristan moaned as the powerful taste filled his mouth, his tongue circling the head, quickly swallowing down the thick leftover cream. His eyes rolled as pleasure flared through his body, heart fluttering with crazed desire. More. He needed more.

Tristan firmly gripped the curved shaft of the cock, holding it in place so that he could push himself forward, the black skin slipping past his lips. He had to open his mouth as wide as it would go, lips tight around the shiny skin, and quickly felt the tip poke at the entrance to his throat. He readjusted, scooting back on his knees and tilting his head back, then pushed forward again. The tip slipped into his throat, drawing a rare gag from Tristan, but he forced himself to swallow a little more.

He felt like he’d barely gotten past the tip, but couldn’t force anymore in, and so slowly started to bob his head back and forth. He continued to rub the shaft with both hands, putting his entire body into the movement, reaching up and squeezing at the knot occasionally.

The scourge beast was quickly panting, its long tongue spilling out as it growled happily, clearly enjoying the attention. Tristan sucked harder, his cheeks hollowing, eyes closing in bliss.

Those silver eyes blinked back open when the beast snarled and shifted, standing over Tristan again, its cock still in his mouth. Tristan started to pull back, wondering what it wanted now, but before he got the head past his lips, the beast’s paw crashed down on his back, flattening him to the cobblestone. It squatted low, arching its back to keep its cock firmly in Tristan’s mouth.

Tristan grunted and coughed, eyes wide with surprise and not a little bit of fear. His eyes grew even wider when the scourge beast pushed its hips forward, sinking a few more inches of beast cock into his throat.

Tristan’s arms jumped up, grabbing onto the member and trying to hold it back, another gag retching from his throat as the beast reached as far as it could go.

It gave an angry snarl, the paw on Tristan’s back pushing down harder, squishing his bloated stomach against the cobblestone, and then thrust hard.

“MMMN!” Tristan’s jaw popped as it opened farther than it should, his throat bulging as the thick cock slid in.

His mind reeled. This was a mistake. He was so stupid. Why had he thought this would be a good idea??

The beast growled and continued to give sharp, sudden thrusts, forcing more and more of its member down Tristan’s overstretched gullet. Every curve and ridge was outlined under his tight skin, hands falling away as he gave in.

Tristan watched the bulbous knot get closer and closer, until it finally pressed against his lips, squishing his nose. His eyes were streaming, throat and face beet red. He could feel the beast’s cock stretching his esophagus down to his collar bones, its sticky lubricant quickly coating his mouth and throat. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. He could never have imagined this to even be possible.

Any and all thoughts he had shattered when the beast grunted and gave its first rough thrust into his throat. It pulled out about halfway, Tristan’s throat rippling around each ridge, and then shoved back in, bending Tristan’s neck back painfully far.

Tristan’s eyes instantly rolled back, his throat gurgling weakly, too overwhelmed to gag or try to cough around the obscenely large cock. All he could do was stretch his neck out more, straighten the path for the monstrous member, so hopefully he could survive the roughest throatfuck he would ever receive in his life.

The beast panted as it jerked out halfway again and then instantly slammed back in, excited about its new hole. Its knot smacked against Tristan’s lips, bruising them purple as it smashed into them again and again, finding its rhythm.

Tristan’s body quickly went limp, his head jerking back with every thrust. His throat creaked and gurgled, bubbles of saliva popping out of his nostrils and just barely squeezing out from under his stuffed lips. His lungs ached, but hardly compared to the pain in his neck and jaw.

The scourge beast growled lowly, its head lowering toward its fuck-toy. Its tongue dragged over Tristan’s legs, lapping up some of its own cum, and then moved up toward his ass. Tristan barely noticed until he felt that thick, wet tongue dive right into his asshole.

His eyes fluttered and his throat gurgled a little louder as the beast’s tongue slithered inside of him. It curled and thrusted the dexterous muscle, mixing up the mess of beast cum that still filled Tristan.

All it took was that little bit of attention, and all of Tristan’s pain flipped right into pleasure. His cock became rock hard in seconds, pinned back against the cracked cobblestone between his legs. Pleasure rippled up and down his limp body, each thrust firing waves through him from head to toe. Even though his tongue was pinned down, Tristan wiggled it helplessly as the giant black cock schlucked in and out of his bulging, misshapen throat.

Minutes ticked by, and even though his lungs screamed for air, Tristan didn’t pass out. His eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, his mind entering an almost zen state, completely submitting to the scourge beast. The beast, meanwhile, sloppily tongue-fucked his ass, apparently enjoying it as its splayed hips continued to slam down into the tight neck-hole. Sometime during all of it, Tristan came, his trapped cock spurting a few thick strings of cum. The beast didn’t even pause, continuing to rut and tongue its toy.

Only when its thrusting ramped up did it pull its tongue from Tristan’s soaked hole. Tristan’s eyes widened a little again, wet thumps echoing around the enclosed area. It was going to happen. The scourge beast was going to claim this hole now too. He could hardly wait.

He didn’t have to wait long. The beast growled lowly, eyes glowing brighter, and then let out a roar as it slammed down into Tristan’s throat.

Tristan watched the knot swell up before his eyes, nearly doubling its size, and then his eyes rolled back completely as a torrent of cum blasted down into his stomach. His throat creaked and trembled, the pulsing of the beast’s cock visible as it released. There was no need to swallow, the thick length a direct feeding tube of hot spunk. His stomach bloated all over again, adding to cum-baby he already had.

Squished as he was under the beast’s heavy paw, Tristan’s body quickly became overwhelmed at the next stream of cum. He gagged hard before thick white cream spouted from his nose, filling his sinuses and the little space left in his mouth. It squeezed out under his lips, slowly dripping down over the engorged knot and painting Tristan’s chin.

Drowning in monster spunk, Tristan shakily lifted his weak arms, his numb fingers grasping onto the knot. He pulled at it a little, the next stream of cum already firing into him. More worked out from under his lips, globs of it splattering down to the ground. Tristan pulled harder, his heart thundering in his ears. He slowly tilted his head, eyelids fluttering as the cock twisted in his throat. The beast snarled and just pushed its hips harder, compressing Tristan’s neck and making escape absolutely impossible. Tristan’s arms fell back to the cobblestone, eyes closing, no other choice but to give the beast what it wanted.

The beast growled contentedly as it filled the small body under it, the noise rumbling through Tristan, his cock twitching with the knowledge that he was making the hulking creature happy. He felt warm and fuzzy, his fleeting panic giving way to calm acceptance. This was his place. This was where he belonged.

The knot gradually deflated, the heavy stream of cum slowing to a trickle, and the beast finally pulled from Tristan’s mouth. It slid out inch by inch, covered in saliva and its own seed, the head scraping along Tristan’s esophagus before flopping out.

Tristan’s head thunked to the ground, a fountain of cum spewing from his slack mouth, unable to fit inside his overloaded stomach. When the backlog finally vented his body, a weak, wet cough pushed from Tristan’s lungs before he dragged in a torturous breath. He’d survived. Somehow, he’d survived.

The scourge beast growled and lifted its paw from Tristan, glancing down at the human, perhaps to see if he was still alive. It snarled happily when Tristan rolled over a little, and smacked its cock down onto him to celebrate.

Tristan grunted at the heavy slap, eyes fluttering open. He rolled over onto his back, staring up at the still leaking member. A drunk smile stretched over his face and he reached up, grabbing the thing and pulling the head back down to his lips. He sucked on the tip like a straw, slurping the rest of the beast’s gift. He cringed as he swallowed, his stretched throat aching, but moaned anyway as he drank the now sweet-tasting cum.

The scourge beast growled, its cock twitching to give Tristan one last thick load, which the slutty human gleefully drank, adding to his cum-bloated stomach. With one last hard suck, Tristan flopped back fully onto the ground, moaning as he cradled his cum-baby.

The beast growled and moved, stepping to the side of Tristan. It sniffed at its little cum-dump, then scooped him up in one big paw and deposited him onto its back. Tristan grunted, the movement causing him to retch up a little more white spunk. He quickly clung to the beast’s coarse fur though as it loped away, delving down into the darkest, deepest recesses of Yharnam.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Healing Church intervenes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so, this might be the most violent thing I've ever written for public viewing. It's pretty nasty. DEFINITELY non-con. That's all I'll say. Have fun!

The scourge beast carried Tristan down to a level of Yharnam even he had not dared to venture in. The lowest level of the city, only inhabited by giant sewer rats and the bodies of the scourge-riddled dead.

The moonlight, as big and bright as it was, barely penetrated to the dark underbelly of the city. Tristan could hardly see, catching small glimpses of wet stone, the sound of running water growing louder. The air became stuffy and choked with the smell of garbage, shit, and blood.

The beast soon reached what seemed to be its home—a long, cavernous hall with a drainage ditch carved through the center. The walls were lined with small storage spaces, long abandoned. Now, the near cozy nooks made perfect nesting areas for the vermin that lived there.

The beast took him to one of these rooms, kneeling so Tristan slid off its back. He fell with a groan onto a floor covered in dirty rags and dried blood. It growled lowly, nosing at the human. Tristan’s eyes were heavy, his body trying to absorb the gallons of cum inside of him. He reached his hands up, no longer afraid, and felt over the beast’s hackles, its yellowing fangs.

The scourge beast snarled and stood over Tristan once again, its cock resting over his stomach. It gave a barking growl, moving impatiently. Tristan whined, knowing what it must want. He was so tired. Couldn’t it let him rest for a bit?

Unable to deny the beast, Tristan laboriously lined up the cock, moaning as the beast pushed forward and once against sank itself into its human. The knot went in with just the barest resistance this time, Tristan’s ass opening easily for the beast.

Tristan panted softly, glancing up as the beast lowered itself down, laying on top of him, its weight pressing into the small body. Tristan clung to it, legs spreading and resting against its sides.

The beast made itself comfortable, adjusting over its warm pillow and then resting its head down on its paws. It sighed, glowing eyes closing, relaxing into its cock warmer.

Tristan’s body slowly relaxed as well, not able to do much else. He tried to adjust a bit, but there was no relief from the intense pressure in his guts. So he simply went limp, legs hanging open, arms resting down at his sides. He closed his eyes as well, letting his exhaustion take over.

And that’s how the beast stayed for some time. It slept soundly, rousing occasionally to give a couple lazy thrusts and deposit a load or two into its cum-dump. At one point, to Tristan’s shameful arousal, it even urinated inside of him.

Tristan drifted in and out, not ever fully sleeping, but letting his body rest as much as it could. He could feel himself changing, his mind and body shifting to the beast’s will. He knew it should scare him, but he couldn’t manage to feel that fear. All he felt was a blissful sense of usefulness.

Three “days” passed, or what equated to it, the full moon still hanging over the city with no sign of setting. Tristan’s body ached, his spine and ribs sore from being pressed into the hard floor, but he didn’t feel hungry or thirsty. His bloated body fed off the beast’s cum, the only thing he needed in his heat.

When next it roused, the beast gave a louder snarl, pulling Tristan from his delirious, half-conscious state. It yawned wide before glancing down at its human, giving a nice, hard thrust to wake him up fully.

An hour later, Tristan was once again filled up to the brim in both holes, a drunk grin on his bruised lips. The beast gave its toy an affectionate lick, and then turned and left their nook, leaving Tristan alone.

Tristan stared after it, laying spread eagle on the floor, just focusing on his breathing for a while. Eventually his eyes closed, and he slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

*

 

When he woke, he was still on his back. He groaned, sore and achy, and slowly rolled over to his side. He groggily felt over his stomach, wondering how long he’d been out. From the feel of his squishy, bloated stomach, it couldn’t have been for too long. It was so uncomfortable, and yet, it felt so fucking good…

Fuck. _Fuck._  

He was addicted to it.

The thought seared through Tristan’s mind. Without the beast’s overpowering presence, he could think a little more clearly. It was almost funny. After surviving for so long on the streets, through so many hunts, Tristan had thought he’d seen it all. But this was just fucking insane. Had anyone else ever fallen victim like this before? He’d never heard of it. He was sure Sinclair would be fascinated—

Sinclair.

Emotion thrummed through him. Tristan’s eyes slid down to where his hair trailed out on the ground in front of his face, the dyed black lock looking back at him. A lump that had nothing to do with the beast’s treatment of him formed in his throat, his eyes stinging. Gods, he wanted to be back with Sinclair. He wanted to be in that warm house, with its books and mysteries. He wanted to feel the deceptively strong man hold him, grab him, force him…

Tristan squeezed his eyes shut, shivering suddenly. He could feel how his body wanted the scourge beast to come back, wanted it to use him as it pleased, and he hated that he wanted that. Would he have to do this every hunt now? Could he resist it?

And could he ever find the courage to tell Sinclair about it?

He was sure the man was worried sick about him. They’d been spending every evening together for weeks, and now it had been what equated to several days without a word from him. But what the hell was he going to say? Tristan hadn’t thought he had any shame left, but apparently becoming a cum slut to a scourge beast had rooted out the last of it.

Hours passed and Tristan felt his body aches growing. He breathing was labored, sweat breaking out over his brow as a fever grew in him. He _needed_ the beast. What if it had been killed by some hunter? What if it would never come back? Would he die of withdrawal? It sure as hell felt like it.

Just when Tristan was on the verge of completely breaking down, a familiar snarl echoed from outside the storage area. His head lifted eagerly, and when his hulking, wolfish beast turned into its den, Tristan whined with desperate happiness. He lifted himself off the floor a bit, gazing up lovingly at the huge creature. It looked pleased with itself, fur standing up along its shoulders and back, and fresh blood dripping from its fanged muzzle.

It moved right up to Tristan, growling a bestial greeting as it nosed at him, smearing blood over his shoulder. The beast then laid down on its side, its engorged cock ready and leaking. Tristan didn’t even have to think about it. He crawled over to the beast’s groin and latched onto its member like a hungry infant.

The beast groaned, its head flopping down as it jerked its hips. Tristan moaned around the thick meat, hands grabbing onto the shaft and rubbing it up and down, coaxing out a generous glob of precum. He didn’t care that the beast had probably killed something, many somethings, while it had been out. All he cared about was getting his next fix.

Just as he was getting into the rhythm of blowing the monster, the unmistakable sound a round chambering echoed through the den. The beast snorted in surprise just before the gun went off, blood spraying up from the scourge beast’s skull.

Tristan jerked away from the beast, his ears ringing from the gunshot. He barely got his head around to see who was shooting before footsteps were surrounding them in the darkness.

The scourge beast gave an ear-splitting roar, standing and swiping out a paw at a shadowy assailant. Its swipe hit nothing but air, and in the next breath a saw cleaver sank halfway into the beast’s neck, just behind its skull.

Tristan scrambled away, watching with horror as the cleaver wrenched from the beast’s flesh, swung up once more, and then chopped clean through the scourge beast’s neck.

Its body collapsed in a heap, head rolling to the side independently, coming to rest with one milky white eye staring over at Tristan.

No. _No._

Tristan crawled back toward the beast, placing pale, shaking hands on its still warm ribcage.

“Well, what do we have here,” a deep voice drawled.

More footsteps approached Tristan, heavy and booted, and another voice spoke, deeper and gravelly. “Now, this isn’t somethin’ I’ve seen before.”

A big hand landed heavily on the top of Tristan’s head, gripping a fistful of dirty white hair and dragging him away from the beast. Tristan cringed and gave a wordless shout, reaching up and trying to dig his nails into the thick wrist.

More voices surrounded him, large, intimidating bodies towering over the blonde. Big coats snapped around leather-clad legs as Tristan was dragged like a ragdoll out into the main passageway.

Hunters. _Church_ hunters. Tristan’s vision swam, trying to pay attention to how many. At least six, all encircling him. Blood dripped down the fronts of their coats and off the wide brims of their hats.

“Did he really have that thing’s cock in his mouth?” one growled.

“That’s what I saw too. Didn’t look like it was forcing you, huh?” A booted foot shoved at Tristan’s hip.

Tristan’s glassy eyes stared up desperately at them, horrified and furious and scared. “You killed it…” he breathed, voice rasping from his used throat.

The hunters pressed in closer, the hand in his hair tightening.

“You’re damn right we did. We freed you from it. Aren’t you happy?”

Tristan bared his teeth and shrieked back, “You _killed_ it!”

A hard kick landed in his stomach, and Tristan crumpled. He retched, and a stream of white spilled from his mouth and onto the wet, dirty stone.

The hunters all made various disgusted sounds, the fist in his hair pulling hard to drag him to his feet.

“By the Church, what a fucked up li’l whore.”

Thick fingers shoved up into Tristan’s ass, the young man whimpering pathetically.

“He’s full up with scourge cream.”  

“Been enjoying it, from the looks of it.”

The fist in his hair wrenched his head back, Tristan’s body going ridged in their hold, barely able to stay up on his feet. “He should be thankful we freed him.”

“Should show us some gratitude.”

“Perhaps he needs some more direct Church medicine.”

Dark chuckling surrounded Tristan before a fist punched into his stomach. He threw up again, more white dribbling from his mouth.

The laughter around the group grew louder. “Get it all out of him!”

“Purge the slut!”

“NO!” Tristan kicked his legs out, trying to free himself like a fish caught on a line. Hands landed on him, grabbing onto his arms with bruising strength before delivering more bone shaking punches.

Pain shot through his torso as every brutal hit forced more of the beast’s cum from his already battered stomach. The hunters’ fists thumped meatily into his flesh, sinking in a good couple inches with each hit.

He was seeing stars by the time he was thrown down to his knees. The blonde fell into a hunter’s legs, breath coming in quick, pained bursts. Another fist clenched into his hair while hands gripped around his neck. Before he could do anything about it, a thick human cock shoved into his mouth.

Tristan gagged hard, grimacing at the sweaty, musty taste. It was the most disgusting thing he’d ever tasted. He bared his teeth, brow furrowing, but before he could bite down he was yanked off the cock and punched swiftly across the jaw.

“That’s not how you show your gratitude, whore,” a voice growled, barely making it past the ringing in Tristan’s ears.

They instantly shoved him back down onto the cock, the hand in his hair and the ones around his neck pushing hard, forcing the thick length down his throat and burying his nose into the sweaty black hair. They pulled him back about halfway and then shoved him down again, turning his head this way and that.

While he was forced to deepthroat, fingers shoved back into his ass and pulled his backend up by his hole. He coughed and gagged, bent over as his head was kept locked onto the hunter’s cock, his legs as shaky as a newborn pony.

More fingers pushed into his ass, pulling and spreading him open wide. “Still a lot ‘a scourge in there.”

“Let’s clean it out for him.”

“Where’s that wineskin?”

Tristan’s brows turned up, his eyes streaming, unsteady legs stumbling from side to side. A thick arm wrapped around his torso and then kneed him in the stomach. “Hold still ya li’l fuck.”

Holding their victim steady, the hunters brought forth their wineskin and stuck the opening easily down Tristan’s ass. They turned it up and squeezed the nearly full bag, causing Tristan to shiver and cough around the cock still down his throat. His eyes rolled as he felt cold liquid slosh into his colon, a muffled groan leaving him.

“Ay, no teeth,” the one who had his cock stuffed in Tristan’s mouth barked. Before Tristan could even try to fix it, dirty, blood-spattered fingers pushed into the corners of his mouth, grabbing hold of his cheeks and wrenching his jaw open wider.

When the wineskin was empty, a hunter ordered gruffly, “Now hold all that in, whore. If your arse isn’t too loose, that is.”

They pulled the nozzle slowly out of Tristan’s ass, and the young man tried his hardest to keep his hole clenched tight. A little dark red wine leaked out, dribbling down his thighs, but he was able to keep it in for the most part.

The hunters chuckled and a hand smacked his cum-coated asscheek, causing a little more to dribble out. “Look at tha’. The li’l thing’s already learning its place.”

The next thing he felt as his entrance was much harder and blunter than he expected. He tried to turn his head a bit to see what was going on, and just barely caught sight of the notched, lethally sharp head of a hunter’s axe.

The thing at his ass pushed harder, and Tristan whined when he realized what it was. The fucking handle. They were shoving the handle of the axe into him.

The flat, metal-capped end of the handle pushed against Tristan’s twitching hole, and then, with a spurt of wine, it went in, plugging him like a cork. The hunters chuckled at Tristan’s muffled protests, and whoever held the axe pushed the wooden handle in with a hard shove.

“HNK—GRK—!” Tristan’s eyes widened, his pupils blown out, saliva dribbling from his held open mouth.

“Churn him up!” a hunter snarled.

“Clean that filthy hole!”

The hunter thrust the handle of the axe with careless force, not trying to make it feel good. The metal cap scraped along Tristan’s insides, mixing the leftover beast cum and the wine. Tristan was already feeling dizzy as the alcohol seeped into his body.

“Hey, don’t forget your gratitude here, whore.” One hand holding onto his face let go to slap him hard, and the hands holding his hair and neck shoved down harder. Tristan grunted and gurgled, eyes crossing as his throat opened up to accept the hunter’s cock. The hunter sighed and thrust up into his mouth in time with the hands shoving him down.

More drool poured from Tristan’s mouth, the thick human cock noisily fucking his throat while the axe handle drove into his ass. Wine leaked out every time the dirty, bloodstained handle slid out, staining his thighs red.

It wasn’t long before the hunters seemed to get impatient, one growling, “I thinks that hole is pretty clean now.”

There were murmurs of agreement, and one barked, “Aye! Grab that cup over there!”

Tristan barely paid attention. His head was pounding, the tight grip on his hair and the hard rod shoving over and over into his throat were more than a little distracting.

He felt it though when the axe handle pulled out of his ass. The young man groaned, unable to stop the flood of liquid from following the swift exit. The hunters gave jeering comments as some of the liquid splattered to the ground, though, not as much as Tristan would have expected.

The hunter in his mouth gave one more rough grind into his throat before sharply pulling out. Tristan coughed and panted while he was quite literally manhandled once again. The hunters pulled him up straight again, hands still gripping his hair, neck, and arms, and then backed him up. They forced his legs apart and dragged him down to straddle a hunter who had laid down on the ground, pulsing, thick cock out and ready from the fly of his trousers.

Tristan fell heavily to his dirty knees, sitting reverse cowgirl over the hunter. The lucky hunter to have the first go at his ass held his cock steady, lining it up to Tristan’s gaping hole as the others pushed him down onto it.

A fluttering, broken whimper left Tristan as the cock pushed into him, his stretchy hole clinging to the hunter’s tight skin, the wine streaking down his length. The hunter moaned roughly, his hands slapping down on Tristan’s hips so he could thrust up into him.

Tristan panted in time with the thrusts, body jerking bonelessly. His flaccid member bounced pathetically. Weeks ago, he might have been able to enjoy himself in the situation, even though hunters had always terrified him. But not now. Not with the fever the beast left him with still pulsing through his wrecked body.

A fist in his hair craned his neck back and a large, shadowed face loomed in front of him. It would have been a handsome face if it weren’t for the deep creases in his forehead and the haunted, mad glint in his sharp blue eyes. “You grateful yet, whore?” he growled, foul breath puffing against Tristan’s face.

Tristan stared into those eyes, his mind going blank at the question. No. The answer was no. They weren’t helping him. They were using him. Raping him. All under the guise of the Healing Church’s holy work. This was why Tristan had run just as fast from Church hunters as he had from the monsters they hunted. Darkness took over the heart of every hunter, eventually.

“You… k-killed it…” Tristan managed to rasp.

The hunter slapped him across the face. Not the fun, sexy sort of slapping. Tristan’s head snapped to the side and his ears rang. The tang of blood added to the bitter mess in his mouth. The man grasped onto Tristan’s jaw, forcing thick, gloved fingers into his mouth, shoving them down his throat. Tristan coughed a little, his unfocused eyes watering.

“You’re really something else,” the hunter breathed, thrusting his fingers into Tristan’s gullet. “A creature filled with scourge. In love with that beast.” He removed his fingers, slapping the smaller man again before reaching off to the side. He brought back an old, rusty tin cup, filled to the brim with milky red wine.

Tristan’s brows turned up, but before he could protest, rough hands were upon him again. They wrenched his jaw open, tipping his head back and pinching his nose shut. The cup tipped over into his mouth, the warm mix of strong wine and scourge beast cum pouring into his mouth. Tristan coughed and gagged, swallowing it down as best he could. The taste didn’t even register to Tristan’s overwhelmed mind, but the hunters sure seemed to get a kick out of him gulping down his own wine enema. They laughed and jeered as wine splashed down Tristan’s front, and when he’d swallowed it all down, more fingers shoved down his throat, digging into his esophagus to try and root out the last of his gag reflex.

The hunter below him continued to thrust though the whole display, Tristan’s bony ass bouncing up and down. “Aye, this whore is too loose, I barely feel it,” he growled.

“We can tighten ‘im up,” another rumbled just before a boot slammed into Tristan’s stomach again.

“HNN—!” Tristan doubled over, some the wine/cum mixture he’d just drank bubbling back out of his mouth from the strike.

“Mmmmn, that’s a bit better,” the hunter below him groaned, grinding up into the clenching hole.

“I’ve got an idea to make him even tighter,” another growled.

Tristan gasped as he was pulled back and laid down flat on top of the man below him, his bare back pressing into his broad chest, thick buckles digging into his skin. The hunter under him grabbed onto his upper arms, pinning them to his sides as the others folded Tristan’s legs up and apart, showing everyone the thick cock buried in his red, puffy ring.

Tristan panted heavily, his sticky, sweaty chest rising up and down as another hunter knelt heavily to his knees, positioning himself between the other hunter’s spread legs. The man’s trousers were already open, his cock hard and sporting a bead of pre at the uncut tip. Tristan watched a nearly glowing white grin spread out from under the shadow of his hat as the hunter lined up his length at the young man’s already occupied entrance.

“Nnnn—nnNNNN!” Tristan squeezed his eyes shut as the hunter pushed forward, using hard fingers to direct his cock in, nestling it right up against the other.

Pain laced up Tristan’s spine as the hunters both pushed in, a choked cry leaving him. He knew there was no way both hunters were as big as the scourge beast had been, but his body was trying to reject them. His ass clenched down around the pair of cocks, shuddering and trying to expel the unwanted penetration.

The hunters both thrust in tandem, digging into Tristan’s hole, the one on top leaning over, sandwiching Tristan between them both.

“S-stop…” Tristan whimpered, eyes glassy, voice barely making it out of his throat. He was losing his mind. He couldn’t take this anymore. It hurt. Fuck, it hurt more than anything else ever had.

The response was immediate and brutal. A punch landed across his jaw and then into his stomach. “Still not grateful?” the hunter above him demanded. He backhanded him across the other cheek, Tristan’s head whipping to the other side. “Fucking selfish cunt.”

A fist landed in his ribs from the hunter underneath him. “We keep this whole city safe for whores like you,” he growled in Tristan’s ear. “This is the least you can do to repay us.”

 A fist clenched in his hair again and yanked his head back and down, another cock shoving down into his bloody mouth. Tristan whimpered and tried to turn his head, not wanting it down his throat this time, but the hunter under him quickly let go of his arms to clamp his hands on the sides of his head, holding him in position.

Bloodshot silver eyes rolled back as the unwashed cock stretched his throat, the hunter’s heavy balls pressing against his nose. The hunter moaned, grinding down into Tristan’s throat before he began to thrust as hard as he would into the young man’s ass.

Tristan’s body slowly went limp as the gang of hunters fucked him. The huge bodies thrusted into him, his pale form barely visible in the mess of leather and thick muscle. The cocks in his ass shoved in haphazardly, each man going at his own pace. Sometimes they thrusted in unison, but mostly their cocks slid around each other, punching into him greedily.

“Loosening already?” the hunter on top of his ass grunted after a few minutes. Tristan could barely hear him with the hairy thighs of the man thrusting into his throat covering his ears. He certainly felt it though when he was punched once again in the gut.

His eyes popped open wider and he coughed hard, wine bubbling up around the length in his mouth. The hunter in his mouth groaned as his orifice became slimier. “Do that again,” he growled as his pace picked up, his balls slapping against Tristan’s nose.

The hunters chuckled and then casually punched him again, causing more thick, bubbling red liquid to push out, dripping down over his face and into his hair.

They continued, a fist landing in his gut every so often. His pale skin was already turning black and blue under all the dirt and cum coating him. The others who were waiting their turn held his legs up by the ankles, keeping him spread and immobile. They idly rubbed their erections against the young man’s dirt-blackened feet. Tristan’s eyes unfocused and dimmed, the pain all blurring together. Every nerve in his body was screaming, all of his pleasure centers completely ruined by the void left by the beast. He just wanted it to be over. Wanted it all to end. He knew it wouldn’t.

The one in his mouth was the first to come. The hunter’s thrusts grew shallower but harder, digging his cock in as far as he could. He panted and growled, his hands curling around Tristan’s neck, thumbs crushing down on his windpipe. Tristan’s eyes rolled up, his vision darkening around the edges. Maybe they’d let him pass out. Then he could escape this fucking hell.

The hunter continued to thrust as his orgasm started, his cock pulsing and shooting a thick stream of cum down Tristan’s throat. He moaned gruffly, his thumbs rubbing hard circles into Tristan’s esophagus, jacking himself off through his neck. Tristan barely reacted as his throat filled with cum, beyond gagging or coughing. The hunter fired load after load, some dripping out from Tristan’s slack mouth to join the mess of drool and wine that covered his face.

The hunter gave a few more greedy thrusts into Tristan’s sloppy mouth as the top man in his ass came next. He gave a loud, manly moan, gripping onto the backs of Tristan’s thighs and digging his grimy nails into his skin, his cock spilling seed all over the bottom man’s. The bottom hunter groaned in pleasure, thrusting up harder into Tristan’s messy asshole.

Even as thick cum bubbled from his orifices, Tristan knew the ordeal was far from over. The two spent hunters stepped away and took the place of the two holding Tristan’s ankles, who eagerly switched. They plunged right in, barely giving the broken human a moment to rest before he was stuffed full again.

The endless night wore on, the engorged moon hanging, motionless, indifferent to Tristan’s torment. Tristan passed out multiple times, coming to occasionally just to find himself in a new position. His sense of time was completely shattered. He had no idea how long the hunters fucked him, their stamina seemingly endless. They had no reason to hurry. The night wouldn’t end for days, and they’d purged the immediate area of any threats. They had all the time they could ever want.

 

*

 

Whether it was through satisfaction or simple boredom, Tristan finally awoke alone. He was lying face down, the stone floor cold against his cheek. He breathed slowly, honestly amazed that he was even alive. Maybe a little disappointed that he was still alive. He was broken. Beyond physical. He knew he couldn’t even grasp how fucked up he was now. It would hit later. When he would inevitable try to move, try to salvage himself. If there was anything left to salvage.

For the time being though, he just laid still. Breathing. Staring at nothing. His thoughts sluggish, but eventually drifting to one place. It wasn’t the scourge beast.

_Sinclair._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: the return of Sinclair! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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